MD2: Melted
by Concolor44
Summary: [[NOTE: This is a SEQUEL to "Meltdown", and occurs DURING Chapter 16 of "Cross Purposes". You really MUST read these in order if you want to get the references.]] Elsa finally gets her introduction to the joys of conjugal bliss. She is MOST appreciative.
1. Chapter 1

**Melted**

 _by Concolor44_

 _ **Author's Note:  
This story goes into some depth concerning the events of Carlos & Elsa's wedding night (or, actually as it turned out, afternoon).  
Dedicated to Shadowruni for his constant reminders that this NEEDED to happen.**_

 _ **Disclaimer of Standardness: All the canon characters are the property of Disney. This story is written solely to entertain. I make no claims to anything belonging to Disney, nor any pelf from this work. I wish only that my Gentle Readers will enjoy my effort.**_

. . .

. . .

 **Chapter 1**

. . .

. . .

 _Sunday 27 March 1842, 9:08am_

A shaft of sunlight streaming in through the tall window opposite the bed had been working its methodical way up Elsa's bare torso (oh, that lucky sunbeam!) for several minutes, and finally touched her face. She sensed the increase in brightness through her closed lids, and moved her face slightly away. The Queen had never suffered any ill effect from a lack of heat; she never even _noticed_ if the temperature dropped to what would be for most people uncomfortably low levels. Carlos, for different reasons, held the same indifference. That made any sort of sheet or blanket entirely superfluous, so they hadn't bothered with any, which meant she didn't have anything to pull up over her face to block the light. No drafts penetrated the magical castle, leaving the air in the room perfectly still and free of dust motes.

The increasing warmth on her face finally began dragging Elsa from her sleep, and a tiny smile made itself at home on her lips as the comfortable presence of her husband registered on her mind. Spooned up against him, she hugged Carlos's arm close to her chest, smiling dreamily in her half-awake state. A slight re-positioning of a leg brought to her attention the small, delicious, residual ache in her nether regions, and her smile grew. He had far exceeded her most generous fantasies, let alone any expectations. A low, contented sigh escaped as those events slipped across her mind …

. . .

. . .

 _The Previous Day, 1:15pm_

Elsa gave a tiny shriek of delight when her new husband swooped her up in his arms. "Carlos! What in the world …"

"This is a tradition in some parts of Europe."

"Whatever for?"

He moved her into the crook of one arm in order to open the latch on their borrowed suite with his other hand. "So that it looks like you're being forced into your new role as a wife."

Her mouth opened and then shut. "… I will have to admit to being mystified by that statement."

"It provides an alibi for you."

"Excuse me?"

"It's a cover," he continued, setting her down on the smooth, dark flagstone. "So you can later say, 'He took me by force! I had no way to preserve my chastity!' You know, so you won't seem so eager about losing your virginity."

She gave him a long look, her smile gradually growing until she burst out in a laugh. "Seriously?"

"Hey, there are people for whom that whole mystique is absolutely crucial." His grin grew wide. He loved hearing her laugh. Even more, he loved being the cause of that laugh.

"They should enter a convent, then." She turned to look around at the room. "Oh, my. Morana didn't spare any expense, did she?"

"Possibly."

"Huh?"

"This could all be glamor."

Elsa walked over to the huge, high bed and felt of the blanket. "Goodness. If it's glamor, it's very convincing."

"It would be, given how powerful she is."

"Well, it feels real enough. I'm just going to go with it."

He came up behind her, stroked her hair back from her neck, said, "That's a sound policy," and placed a warming kiss on the spot where that flawless column joined her shoulder.

Her legs tried to buckle, but she stopped it. "Oh, dear Lord. We're really, truly, finally going to do this, aren't we?"

"Absolutely." He took a step back and began undoing the buttons on his white jacket. "And I've been thinking on how we should go about it."

"You have my full attention, sir." They'd had a few conversations about their wedding night – or afternoon, as it happened – and had always had to stop the discussion and separate before things got out of hand. She reached for a catch on her bodice. "Shall I …"

"No. Just wait." He continued disrobing until he stood clad only in his long underpants.

Elsa, by that point, was deeply flushed. "Oh … my."

She'd seen him shirtless before, and so had caught brief glimpses of his musculature, here and there, usually from a slight distance while he trained her Guard, and had never failed to be captivated. This was different, though. This time, he was close, he was hers (all hers!) and there was no impediment …

She found herself suddenly right in front of him, her slender fingers trailing over the sculpted landscape of his chest and abdomen. Her breath came fast. _This is … this is legal! No one can say me nay! I'm actually_ _ **expected**_ _to … to …_

 _[[ My Dear One, we have all the time in the world. We will not rush this. ]]_

 _[[ Yes. I know. It's just … so much … ]]_

He turned her face up to his and kissed her, slowly, tenderly. _[[ I want you to explore. ]]_

 _[[ Yes. ]]_

 _[[ You have to be comfortable with me. ]]_

 _[[ I'm already comfortable with you! ]]_ The slight exasperation was clear in her Sending.

 _[[ Yes, you are. You are comfortable with my_ _ **presence**_ _. You appreciate my_ _ **advice**_ _. You trust my_ _ **intentions**_ _. You share fully in my_ _ **mind**_ _. But that is not the same as_ _ **your**_ _body being comfortable with_ _ **my**_ _body. ]]_

 _[[… That's … um … ]]_

 _[[ I have some small understanding of what you went through that forged the woman you've become, and it only makes me love and respect and admire you more. But that's me. You have your own walls to breach. I will help where I can, but in the final analysis, it is something you must overcome. We have held our passions in abeyance for these many months, and it has almost become second nature to deny ourselves. ]]_

 _[[ Um. Yes. That's true. As if we had a choice. ]]_

 _[[ Exactly; and you've_ _practiced_ _denying yourself most of your life. But now that has changed. ]]_

 _[[ Are you worried I'll freak out on you? ]]_

 _[[ Not in so many words. But letting yourself go, allowing yourself indulgence in those things that have been held, perforce, in the realm of fantasy, isn't something you can just flip over like turning a page in a book. ]]_

She knew he was right … and it did bother her. This was not the same as her thirteen years of fear-based isolation. She'd had no illusions during that time that she would ever have the luxury of expressing herself freely through her magic. That door had to remain closed. It was a dreaded thing, a shameful thing, something to be hidden, and when the curtain had been torn away, right there in front of her kingdom and half-a-hundred foreign dignitaries, her expectations got shredded with it. Concealment was no longer the issue, and would never be again. Eventually, the immense feeling of freedom had been life-altering in a lot of good ways. But at the time the fear drove her away. She COULDN'T simply stay at the castle and explain everything. In her mind, there was no explanation that could suffice.

With Carlos, with their marriage, it was different. She'd been putting something off that they looked forward to, not denying an essential part of her character. Nevertheless, underlying her eagerness to get to the 'heart of the matter' in their physical relationship was a deeper layer of dread. She didn't speak of it, though she knew he had to be at least partially aware of it.

Would she be able to bring herself to fully partake in the physical aspects of their love? Yes, she craved his touch, but … what of that final boundary of intimacy? What if she froze (figuratively and literally) at a crucial point? She certainly didn't want to compare unfavorably with the Eastern courtesans who had taught him the things he was ready to teach her. Would she even enjoy it? Could she … _could_ she really let herself go to that extent?

In her heart of hearts, she suspected these fears to be unfounded, but that didn't make them any less real. Firming up her resolve, she knew she would have to rely on her trust in his love. He loved her nearly beyond her ability to comprehend. There would be no disappointment, she decided, only passion and pleasure and fulfillment. Still …

 _[[ So … I keep doing this, then? ]]_

 _[[ You do whatever makes you comfortable, and then when you think you can, go on to those things that might cause a bit of trepidation. But please remember: we have time. So much time. It will take time for us to become intimately familiar with each other's bodies, our likes and dislikes. It will be a journey of discovery for both of us. ]]_ He kissed her again, then again, lingering long, savoring the fresh, crisp taste of her, the moist, silken pressure of her lips, the clean, slightly spicy scent of her hair. Finally stopping for breath, he Sent, _[[ For now, you may simply think of it as play. ]]_

 _[[ Very well. But I don't know how you … not that I'm complaining, please don't think that … I just don't know how you can be so … so controlled. I can sense what's roiling around under the upper layers of your mind. ]]_ Indeed, his poorly-hidden thoughts were highly flattering.

"Hey, I'm old. I've had lots of practice at controlling myself."

"… Is that a dig?"

"God forbid! I would never make light of your extreme youth and innocence … that I find so intensely arousing."

She had to grin at that. He knew exactly how to put her at ease. "Then hold still."

"I am yours to command."

She walked around him, trailing fingers over and under and through, slowly absorbing detail after detail. His dark skin was unmarred, unblemished, though he'd been in more battles than he could remember, and had remarked more than once in their conversations about the many wounds he'd taken. "Where are your scars?"

"Scars?"

"You don't have any scars. You've taken hundreds of wounds, so I'd assumed …"

"Ah. Right. Over time the healing aura erases them. And Lord knows I've used it often enough."

Allowing herself a small smile, she said, "Handy." Softly caressing his shoulder where the knife had struck him that first night, she let her fingers slowly graze down his chest to his lower ribs where the head of that hideous bolt had protruded. Her touch left a wake of fire on his skin, and he couldn't quite suppress a groan. She glanced up at him. "Wasn't there a sort of a scar here?"

"Yes, but … only for a while. Decided I didn't need the reminder of what had happened. I applied the aura again and again until it was gone."

"Oh." It was true that there had been an angry, red lump after she completed the work of saving his life. But she hadn't seen him up close and shirtless since that night, and she had been understandably distracted at the time.

Running her hands around to his back, she mapped it just as carefully. At length, unable to contain herself any longer, she let one hand drop to his rump.

Carlos was repeating a soothing mantra to himself, trying his best not to tremble. The feathery touches of her unschooled ministrations were straining his control, no matter what claims he'd made, and if she …

"Do you … have to keep these on?"

"… What?"

"These pantaloons. They look … uncomfortably tight."

"They are now."

"You were, um, planning to take them off. Eventually. Weren't you?"

"Yes." He didn't trust his tongue past that syllable.

"Would you go ahead and do that, then?"

He had them off in seconds, his length springing free.

Elsa simply stared at it for several long moments, finally whispering, "Are you _**completely**_ sure that will … all of it will … fit? I just don't see how."

"Yes. I am sure." He had become ridiculously rigid from watching – and feeling – her innocent explorations.

For her part, Elsa was excruciatingly aware that she was venturing into that part of the map inhabited by dragons and wind gods. She'd gone thirteen years with only the most restrained of physical contact – with anyone. And the last ten of those, she wore gloves. She hadn't hugged anyone, and no one hugged her, at her request. Skin-to-skin contact was simply too risky in her mind. She could freeze someone to death – perhaps someone she loved – without meaning to. Without even being aware of it.

Her self-imposed isolation had shaped (or, more accurately, _warped_ ) her basic response to human contact. Fear was a constant companion. Fear underlay everything she did. Fear had nearly destroyed her and everyone she loved. And even if love WAS the opposite of (and the antidote for) fear, that fear could not be eliminated with one selfless act. It could barely be stunted.

After her coronation, after learning how love was the key to controlling her powers, after her reinstatement as Queen, after coming to terms with her abilities and redirecting them for the good of her people … she still wasn't comfortable with physical contact. One of the phobias she'd developed during her years of solitude was that of touching – well – anyone. After the Great Freeze, she had allowed Anna in. (Anna hadn't really given her a choice in the matter.) She learned to be comfortable with Anna touching her. But even then, she had to limit the contact. Yes, she derived comfort from her sister's presence, and even from her hugs – most of the time – but sooner or later, she REQUIRED her solitude.

Much of that had changed eight months ago. When she and Carlos had merged their powers, she finally got a sense of what it felt like to be whole, to be without fear. Not only COULD she touch him … she CRAVED it. Needed it. But she didn't crave his touch in the same way that other human lovers did. It wasn't that she desired the feel of his skin on hers (though that was nice) or the sense of being held and cherished in his arms (though that was even nicer) or the taste of his kiss (which frequently left her light-headed).

What she coveted most was the melding of their minds, the unlimited feeling of completeness that came with his slightest caress of her skin. It would be like that now, only vastly intensified. And while the concept was thrilling, it also gave her seriously to pause. So she approached the idea rather tangentially.

"Can … may I … touch it?"

"If you want to. This is your show, your pace."

She reached toward him, then stopped, one eyebrow rising. "You have no hair?"

He frowned at that statement for only a second. "Ah. No. I don't have any body hair."

"Is that part of your Fey heritage? Because I … well, um … I've got … some. Not much, really. But men … men are hairy. Usually. I think? Aren't they?"

"Oh, I used to have hair. By the time I hit my fifties, I'd gotten _**very**_ hairy, all over. But it didn't stay that way. About, oh, a hundred and ten, hundred and twenty years ago, it started getting thin and falling out. By the time I turned two hundred, the only hair I had left was on my scalp and eyebrows. So far, so good there. I don't really want to be bald, and Hamaraja still had _his_ hair, so I'm not worried, exactly. Although I must say that not having to shave every morning is a real plus."

"Hmm." She thought that one over and then put a single finger on the slight dip right at the base of his manhood.

. . .

. . .

 _ **Chapter End Note: Yes, they are taking things slowly. They have centuries, after all, and Carlos wants this to be really, REALLY good for her. That doesn't mean, though, that it's going to be easy for him.**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Melted**

 _by Concolor44_

 _ **Author's Note: So … what happens when the woman you love beyond all reason touches you – intimately – for the first time?**_

. . .

. . .

 **Chapter 2**

. . .

. . .

It was quite simply impossible to restrain a twitch.

She jerked back. "Did I hurt you? I didn't think I …"

"No! No, you didn't hurt me. Quite the contrary."

"Oh. Okay. That was … a good touch, then?"

"Very good."

Slowly, hesitantly, she rested her hand on it, finally wrapping her fingers around it. A quick intake of breath led to, "My goodness. It's … it's hard. But so smooth. So very smooth." She seemed captivated. Her left hand joined the right.

Carlos made a short, stuttering, choked sort of noise.

She looked at his face. His eyes were closed, his jaw clenched. "Are you _**sure**_ I'm not hurting you?"

"I'd let you … take a peek … into my mind, just to set yours at ease. But I'm afraid of what the backlash … what your reaction might be."

She pulled her hands away. "So, do you, um, not want it … touched?"

"My Dear Sweet Wife, I desire your touch at this point more than I desire air."

"Oh. Okay." She got a loose grip on him again, stroking his length lightly with her fingertips. "As long as you're sure."

Between pants and deep breaths, he managed, "I can assure you … without fear of contradiction, that I have never … in my life … been more sure about anything."

Giving him a shy smile, she murmured, "It feels like the softest suede ever." At first she stood at somewhat of an angle to him, but found that rather awkward. Standing in front was little better. Thinking it over, she spread and rearranged her skirts, sank to her knees and re-positioned her grip. "Ha! There we go. I can get a closer look at it this way, too."

Seeing her kneeling before him in that manner ignited a whirl of fantasies that pulled another groan out of him (not that he had the faintest expectation of it actually _happening_ today … but he did possess male genes).

Studying what lay in front of her, she noted that the tip of her longest finger just touched the tip of her thumb as she gripped him. The length of it was fairly straight, with just a slight upward curvature. "It reminds me of a saber. A cavalry saber. There's a set of them over the fireplace in the Library."

He swallowed, then swallowed again. "I'm … so gratified."

She turned her attention to his scrotal sac, hesitantly running the fingertips of her left hand along the deeply-ridged underside. When he shuddered, she glanced up. "Is that all right?"

"At the very least."

"The skin is … tight over it. Over your, uh, tes-testicles." She swallowed, trying to force her embarrassment down a hole. "It doesn't resemble the illustrations."

"Men are …" He had to stop and steady his legs again. "Men are different … sizes and … shapes."

"I can see that. One seems to be bigger than the other." Wrapping her right hand around his manhood again, and taking as neutral a tone as she could manage, she said, "This is considerably larger than the illustrations. I'd thought so the very first time I got a glimpse of it, but …"

"Wait." Something she'd said just percolated through the lust-haze around his brain. "Illustrations? What illustrations?"

"Oh. Um … I, ah, acquired this, ah … book." She suddenly found the floor very interesting. "Cloquet's _Un Système de l'Anatomie Humaine._ The 1819 edition. It, ah … there was a booklet of illustrations that came with it. It was a gift, um, from the French Ambassador. He was at my coronation. He said he thought it appropriate, given that it was published the year I was born."

Carlos frowned. "I'll just bet he did."

"Oh, no!" Her eyes flicked back up at him. "It wasn't like that! He's old, and his wife was with him, and she was the one who handed me the book, and …"

"Elsa! It's okay. I'm sorry." He chuckled. "Maybe just a little jealous."

"No other man could possibly compare with you." Making sure she had his attention, she switched to Sending. _[[ You have nothing to ever be jealous about. Ever. ]]_

"… I love you so much."

She turned her interest back to the object in her grip. "Anyway, I didn't get but a … well, a brief glimpse of this at the time, and then convinced myself later that I'd been mistaken. However, if anything, it's even longer than I remember."

Resting the outside of her right fist against him where the shaft began, she then placed her left hand ahead of and against her right, then placed her right hand ahead of and against her left. That put her right thumb over the end of his foreskin. "Three hands."

"… What?"

"It's three hands long. Three of mine, anyway. Minus the width of my thumb." She dropped her hands to her lap and just looked at it. "And all of this will _really_ fit inside of me?"

"Yes."

"… But … where?"

"It will. The parts are meant to go together. I promise. But not today."

"If you say so. I must admit, though, that the idea is rather … intimidating." Taking hold of him again, she ran her hands up to the end, lightly stroking, then used one finger to circle the tip. "This is the foreskin, right?"

"Yes." He did his best not to squeak his answer.

"What is this for, really? My books didn't go into any detail. And I know that some cultures, ah, cut … cut it off, so I know it can't be … indispensable."

He had to collect his scattered thoughts – and take a long breath. "The foreskin is a cover. A sort of protection."

"Against what?"

"Ah, the, ah, parts under it are very sensitive." His eyes bulged. " **Ggkkh!** "

"Oh." She pulled her fingertip out of where she'd put it. "Very, _**very**_ sensitive, I take it?"

"… yessss …"

She gently telescoped the ring of skin back until the head was exposed. "Oh, my. It's quite … purple."

"Nnng-ng-ng."

Cocking her head up at him, and noting how tightly his fists were clenched, she studied his face and considered her options. He was going to let her do whatever she needed to do to get comfortable, so …

Placing the tips of two fingers of either hand along each side at its base, she lightly dragged her nails up his length.

He shuddered all over, his breathing heavy.

"Is that all right?"

"Mm-hmm." He could barely spare the brain cells to answer.

Repeating the action a few more times (and putting an almost continuous tremor in his legs) she finally rested one cheek against the side of it, leaning her forehead against his belly. "It's so warm. I mean, sure, you're warm all the time, but … this is … different. It's a different kind of warm. Kind of … an _excited_ sort of warm."

"Hhhnn."

After another glance up at his face, she took a close look at the end again. One soft hand wrapped around it and squeezed, bringing another hitch in his breathing.

"You know, your reactions are a lot of fun. I never suspected that men were this easy to distract."

"Hhhhhnnnggggg …"

She began using two fingers and a thumb to move the foreskin delicately back and forth over the glans, fascinated by the silky feel of the membrane over a shaft that imitated iron. At one point she noticed that a small drop of clear fluid had emerged from the tip. "Carlos? Do you, um, need to visit the privy?"

"N-n-n-no. What ma-makes you ask?"

"There's this … drop. Of something. Right here." She had meant only to point, but actually touched the tip of a finger to it. A bit startled, she jerked back, but was immediately becalmed when it clung to her finger and pulled into a hair-thin string. "My word."

"Oh. That."

"Is this normal?"

"Under these … _uff_ … circumstances? Absolutely."

"Ah. Good." She squinted at the substance, then sniffed her finger. Eyes widening in surprise, she sniffed it again, then touched her finger to her tongue. "It's savory!"

"Huh?"

"And slightly sweet."

"It, uh, it is?" He was having great trouble keeping his legs straight.

"Did this come out because of what I was doing?"

"Oh, yes."

"What's it for?"

 _She's asking questions?! She's wringing my brain like a dishcloth, and expects me to answer questions?!_ "It's … just something that happens first."

"Is there more of it?"

"Hn … um … yeah, some. Not … not much."

"Well, then." As he watched, she gingerly dabbed up some of what remained, licked her finger off, ruminated on the taste for a few seconds, said, "That's quite nice," then lifted the shaft to her lips, gently squeezing it to coax out the remainder, carefully licked the tip of his manhood to collect what emerged, and resumed playing with the foreskin.

Eyes plastered wide, he couldn't quite process that she had done that. Everything that made up who he was … was overloading. "El – El – Elssssa-a-a-a-a-a-a …"

"It's really sort of cute, the way this flicks open as it does, like the purple part is playing peekaboo. Don't you think? I believe I like my new playthi- EEP!"

The substance that erupted abruptly from the end of his shaft in several quick spurts was a translucent off-white and (she soon discovered) very sticky. "Carlos!"

He crumpled to his hands and knees, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Oh … Oh … Oh … By the … Saints …"

"Darling!" She took his face in her hands. "Are you injured?"

He could only shake his head, drawing a series of deep breaths.

"Was that … did you … oh, my goodness! Was that a … did you reach climax?"

"As … I have never … before … in my life."

"I thought you had to be, ah, coupled. At the time." Elsa looked at the many glistening strands and daubs that now decorated her gown. With a few quick gestures, she froze and disintegrated them. "So that was your seed?"

He nodded.

"But how …"

Trying his best to focus on her face, he answered, "I'd not … _whoosh_ … not anticipated … just HOW arousing it would be … for you to … handle me that way."

"Oh! So I did a good thing?"

"And then some."

"Wonderful!"

"Yes. Yes, you are."

She noticed then that tiny flames were erupting from his skin at random, and grew concerned for him. Laying a soft hand on his shoulder, she merged their two powers …

… and was suddenly immersed in such a white-hot maelstrom of lust that she could barely breathe.

Instantly drawn into the vortex, her own interest and drive joining his, the paired emotions became more … multiplying, strengthening, echoing and reverberating. The weight of his desire infused her spirit, and she responded in kind, gripping the sides of his head in both hands and crashing her lips into his in desperate, aching, endless need. They twined together, groping, panting, for an unknowable period – minutes? years? – until Carlos realized he had shredded her bodice, and winced at the phantom pain in his shoulder. Elsa's echoing gasp drew his focus, and it was then he realized he had bruised her.

Mortification flooded his mind. He jerked back, separating them physically while hastily erecting a mind shield. They sat there for several moments, he catching his breath, she rubbing her shoulder where he'd gripped her, not meeting each other's gaze. Finally he said, "I am so terribly sorry for that."

"What?" Her head jerked up.

"I never intended for …"

"Carlos! How was any of that YOUR fault?"

"I … your shoulder …"

"Oh, please! I'll have this healed in a minute. And I'm the one that lost control, not you! You were doing great until I …"

"Wait, no! If I hadn't subjected you to my stupid, stupid lusts, you would never have …"

She reached over and laid a finger across his lips. "Hush."

He stilled.

"I love you. You love me. I think we've established that."

"… We have."

"You didn't do anything wrong. You had it under control."

"Don't know as I'd go THAT far."

"You know what I mean. I'm the one that just decided to take a quick dip in your psyche without giving you a heads-up. I got what I deserved."

"I hardly think so."

"Still, it was my fault." The slight blue glow around her shoulder faded. "There. All better." She favored him with a tiny smile. "We'll go at this more slowly, then? Seems to me that we can … get out of hand … without too much effort."

"Agreed. I'd thought that merging our psyches during lovemaking would enhance the experience …"

"And it may yet. But not until we've, um, grown accustomed to the … reactions."

"Yes! You are so … so …"

"So are you."

"I could so easily hurt you. Physically, you are quite fragile."

"And reparable, as you can see."

"I don't want pain to be any part of –"

"Shhh! It won't be." She crawled over to him and snuggled. "Hey. How about we take this to the bed? Wouldn't that be more comfortable than the floor?"

"Doubtless." He rose, helped her up, and they walked over to the broad sleeping platform.

. . .

. . .

 _ **Chapter End Note: Looks like her 'unschooled ministrations' just completely unzipped him. Makes you wonder what else is in store.**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Melted**

 _by Concolor44_

 _ **Author's Note: Her turn.**_

. . .

. . .

 **Chapter 3**

. . .

. . .

"Okay." She pointed. "You lie down."

He gave her a sideways glance. "On my back?"

"To start with."

He followed her instruction, lacing his fingers together behind his head.

Just watching him for a few moments, that adorable smile still in place, she began removing what remained of her sadly-used garment. "I don't think we'll need this, either."

He stared at her, unblinking. It wasn't as if she was **trying** to be seductive. She wasn't really putting any effort into it. Nevertheless, his manhood quickly rose to attention again.

Her eyes growing round, Elsa gasped, "My goodness! Is that normal? I'd read that once a man had, um, expelled his seed, that he couldn't … that is, for a while, he …"

"My Love, what is normal for us may not comport with what anyone else considers normal. Or even feasible."

"You … um, right. Okay. I can work with that." The bodice discarded, she continued disrobing until she wore only a brief chemise, a white silk-and-lace confection that sported a fabric rose between her breasts ... and suggested much more than it concealed. Carlos cleared his throat and swallowed hard. High color in her cheeks, Elsa gave him a shy smile and offered, "There. That's better. Don't you think?"

He was breathing heavily. Her long, slender legs had never before been exposed so to his sight. He thought this must be very much like how it felt to get drunk. "That's some more little wisp you've got on there."

Dropping her gaze, she murmured, "It was a pre-wedding gift from Anna. She seemed to think you'd … like it."

"I'll have to send her a couple of hundredweights of chocolate as a thank you."

That made her giggle, but she quickly composed herself. Taking the end of her long braid in her hands, she untied the blue-and-gold ribbon holding it together, then used her fingers to comb the platinum-blonde wealth out more or less straight.

He'd never seen _that_ before either, and had to fight down the urge to gather it in his hands and bathe his face in it.

Kneeling beside him on the bed, her fingers hovered toward his manhood. But then she dimpled slightly before saying, "I'm almost afraid to touch it, given what just happened."

He turned toward her, lying on his side, and propped his head on one hand. "Then perhaps it would be better if I explored you for a while?"

Her face flamed.

Suppressing a chuckle, he followed that with, "Or not. It's up to you. But please know that I feel sure I can get you into a very receptive state. It's all part of my master plan, you know."

"… I'm sure." She reached out a tentative hand and lightly pushed him back over. "I've decided I'm not finished yet." Scooting down until she was roughly even with his knees, she added, "I've never really seen your legs before … bare. Like this." Color crept up her face. "You know."

The way she vacillated between frank appreciation and awkward shyness charmed Carlos to his core. "Feel free to look. They belong to you now."

"Could you … would you mind lifting one? Just a bit?"

Obediently he raised his left leg a few hands-breadths.

She sucked a quick breath. "Oh, my."

"What?"

"I, ah … really like the way your muscles move. Under your skin." Softly she caressed his thigh. "When you move. It's … very artistic."

Her cool, tentative touch left lines of scorched skin in its wake. His eyes rolled back at the fantastic sensations. "I'm … glad you approve."

She ran her hands up and down his leg a few times, then leaned over and rested her cheek against his knee. "My beautiful man."

He couldn't help himself. He HAD to reach down and brush his fingers along her silky calf. "My beautiful woman."

Getting back up on her knees, she gave him a piercing gaze for a moment and then swallowed. This was it. This was an act she'd been thinking about for nearly a month, something she'd discussed with Anna more than once, something that she hoped would show Carlos how much she trusted him. "Would you … would you please take my chemise off?"

Grin popping into place, he quickly rose to face her. "I would be honored."

She suddenly looked intensely nervous.

"You'll need to raise your arms. I'd rather not tear this fine silk."

"No, no, please don't. Marid would be THAT upset." Hesitantly she lifted her arms.

"Straight up."

She obliged.

Carefully he took hold of the filmy garment at the shoulders and lifted it up and off of her … then his breath hitched. Badly.

Her hair had bunched up and then dropped in a soft fall around her shoulders, framing her lovely face, lightly draping her breasts. One stiff, pink nipple peeked through the finer-than-silk curtain. Glorious in her slender perfection, exposed completely now before him, she was suddenly very self-conscious and blushed deeply, the color extending down her shoulders onto her chest. She brought her arms down and crossed them over her stomach.

Carlos pulled a lungful of air and expelled it through his nose. "Now I understand."

A quizzical expression came to rest on her delicate face. "Understand what?"

"Goddess worship."

That shocked a giggle out of her. "Don't be silly!"

"I'm not. If I weren't already a Christian, I'd have a new focus for my spiritual adoration. You, my Dear Wife, are dazzling." _Wife! She's my WIFE! This gorgeous, ethereal being is MARRIED to me!_ " **Beyond** dazzling. I think my soul just grew two sizes."

She dropped her gaze, blush intensifying.

"Sweetheart?"

A quick peek up at him, then she studied the coverlet again.

"Elsa?" He moved over next to her, gently persuaded her onto his lap (as best he could, what with one rather major obstacle) and positioned her head up under his chin. "Just sit here with me for a bit, okay?"

A small nod.

He began rubbing light, lazy circles on her back, relishing the amazingly smooth and elastic texture of her skin. "I'm still having a little trouble believing you said 'I do'."

"What?"

"I'm not sure why God chose to bless me so extravagantly. It's not as if I deserve it."

Snaking an arm around his waist, she retorted, "I could say the same thing. You at least had a history of successful relationships. But, me? I'd never even ENTERTAINED the notion that I could marry, much less marry someone I love. You want to talk about blessings? You want to see one? There's a mirror right over there. Take a peek in it and look at a bona fide miracle."

For that, he felt compelled to kiss her. This most pleasant activity stretched out for the better part of two minutes, but eventually they had to come up for air.

She had her arms around his neck and had re-positioned herself so as to straddle his hips. That meant his erection was now pressing against her belly. She looked down at it and sighed. "I really … really can't even imagine what that will feel like."

"And it will be a while before you find out. Don't worry." He patted the bed beside them. "Lie down, please."

She did, arms rigidly at her sides.

That made him grin. "Okay, now turn over."

A puzzled glance, then, "What?"

"Onto your front. You know, face down?"

"Um … okay." She followed that instruction. "Now what?"

He simply HAD to pause and admire the view. Her form described a series of parabolas that made his head swim.

She craned her neck to look at him. "Carlos?"

"Hmm?"

"What now?"

"Oh, sorry. I was just … you're so … spectacular, and … and breathtaking, and … Seriously, words fail me; and I speak three score languages. Your back is as long and slim as a mink's. And your legs, so flawless, and the luscious flare of your, ah your …" He was a starving man, a royal banquet spread before him.

She blushed. Yet again. "Thank you. But what do I do now?"

He shook his head and re-centered. "Right. Now bend your right leg at the knee."

She did, curling her toes slightly and frowning. "… This wasn't in any of my texts. It's not one of those Forbidden Positions, is it?"

He shot her a puzzled look. "Forbidden? I'm sorry, what?"

"There are … ways that some pagan cultures, ah, go about this that … that are not, um …"

"Where in the world did you pick up that notion?"

"Um … I asked the, ah, Bishop for some books on the subject. He only had the one."

Carlos sighed, smiling to keep the irritation out of his voice. "In the first place, there's no such thing as a Forbidden Position, only comfortable or uncomfortable ones. And in the second," he stated, "I'm going to massage your feet." And he took that small, delicate extremity into his hands. "Starting with the right one."

"Oh! All right. I've heard about massage. That sounds … like … oohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh …"

"Will you just look at these flawless toes? Elsa, is there ANY detail of your form that isn't perfect? I haven't noticed one."

All she could manage in answer was a long, low, breathy moan. His fingers were spreading a delicious heat along her sole that melted downward across her ankle, leaving only a tingling sort of relief in its wake. She'd had no idea her feet were so tense, but the comparison was just stark.

"You like that? I studied tantric massage during my years in India."

"Uuhhhnnnnnngggghhhhhhhhhh …"

After a minute, he asked, "You've never had a massage before, have you?"

Speech was, by that point, _**almost**_ too much work to bother with. She would have liked to remind him, gently, that she was too afraid to have anyone touch her for most of her life, that she didn't even allow hugs, much LESS this incredibly intimate contact. It would have blown her mind, and probably doomed Arendelle. He knew that, and she knew that he knew that. They'd talked about it before, more than once. She wanted to get it firmly in his mind that he was the only one on the planet besides Anna who was even allowed to hold her. But that would have taken work, so what she said was, "… uh-uh …"

"Then just relax. This will take most of an hour."

Once the muscles and ligaments in her feet and ankles were sufficiently loose, he slowly walked his fingers down her Achilles Tendons and shins, across her glorious calves and up to her knees. When everything to that point was relaxed, he then switched to massaging her hands and wrists, slowly moving up her slender arms to her shoulders. Her neck and the top of her back came next, and he progressed from there down her spine and flanks, worked his thumbs around her sacroiliac, kneaded her svelte rear and thighs (which left him _painfully_ hard), and drew the energies down, down, down her long legs and out her feet again.

Elsa was barely conscious when he finished, and had never been even _approximately_ this relaxed before in her life. She felt like a puddle of woman.

Grinning at her, Carlos whispered, "Sweetheart?"

She had to take in a long breath through her nose to say, "… . . . … mm?"

"I'm going to turn you over now."

"… mm …"

He got her tucked and turned in a few moments. Her head lolled to one side, eyelids at half-mast, and an idiotic grin plastered on her face.

"Looks like you enjoyed that."

"… mm …"

"What a scintillating conversationalist you've turned out to be."

"… mm …"

He chuckled. "Okay, now, Darling? You ready for stage two of the massage?"

After a bit of effort, she focused an intensely incredulous look on him. "Stage … two?"

"Yes."

"You … you mean there's … more?"

"Quite a lot more."

Letting her head roll back over, and closing her eyes, she mumbled, "Go for it. Heaven on earth, as God is my witness."

Beginning at her crown chakra point, he carefully manipulated the muscles of her scalp, temples and face, then her neck and collarbones, and then …

Whereas his earlier ministrations had resulted in almost total enervation, the effects this time were different. _Quite_ different. Elsa felt a tickle, a sort of excited itch that formed a tight coil below her stomach. Unaccustomed heat built in her loins and spread over her like warm honey.

Lightly rubbing down alongside her ribs, he brushed past the side of each breast.

Her breathing stuttered. Not much, but he noticed. And grinned.

Moving to her flat abdomen, he gently kneaded side to side, then made his way steadily up her sternum with both hands. Then, almost reverently, he cupped her breasts and compressed them with the subtlest of touches of his thumbs.

With a gasp, her eyes flew open.

"Too much?"

"Oh … my." She swallowed and met his gaze. "That's … different?"

His smile showed lots of teeth. "Just relax."

Caught up, as she was, in the new and intense sensations, she accused, "I don't think relaxation is your goal anymore."

"Then pay attention to how things feel. I'm pretty good at reading signals, but I think that if I tried monitoring your mind right now it would be too distracting."

"Mm." (He was manipulating her breasts lightly.) "Yeah. P-probably."

In a few minutes, once she was more or less used to the way it felt to have his hands touch her in _yet another_ way she had never been touched before, he migrated down to her hips and thighs. Careful thumbs dragged slowly along the insides of her pelvic bones.

 **Proximity!** The slow fire that had been building low in her gut ever since he started massaging her face grew quickly to invest the rest of her. Even her fingertips were buzzing with the restless, directionless energy. She didn't have a clue how he was doing it, and frankly didn't give a rip … as long as he kept it up.

But then after another couple of minutes he pulled away, resting on his knees with his hands on his thighs.

Her voice was plaintive. "You stopped."

"Yes."

"… Why …"

"Elsa?"

Her gaze on him was dark, almost sparking with desire. She wanted to squirm, to reach, to pull his hands back onto her body.

"We're going to get into the realm of new territory."

"… That's been my _whole day_."

"What I mean is, new for me."

She quirked an eyebrow at him, aching to move closer. "Didn't think that was possible." _I need him to touch me; why isn't he touching me?_

"Every woman is different. What you like is something we'll discover together."

That inner fire hadn't banked at all. Her transparent gaze stilled him. Drawing a long breath, she marshaled her thoughts and Sent, _[[ Please keep doing what you've been doing because it feels wonderful and because I_ _ **trust**_ _you … completely. ]]_

"And you've no idea how much I cherish that." He moved one hand over and placed it flat on the light blonde tuft capping her mons, applying a bit of pressure.

She hissed in a ragged gulp of air. _There it is!_

Slowly, he began rocking his hand in a circular motion.

That simmering heat blazed instantly into an inferno that tried to burst out of her skin. Patches of frost and piles of snow appeared and vanished at random around the room. She grabbed fistfuls of blanket. Without her realizing it, her knees tilted outward a bit.

He was methodical, taking very great care not to press too hard at any point, but slowly, slowly working down and around until her legs spread wide in welcome and he was very lightly pulling and kneading the outer lips of her core. Her breath was a staccato series of muted hisses; her head thrashed back and forth as her world was not-so-slowly reduced to what his hands were touching and Not One Thing More.

He took note that she was getting very wet, but then a frigid wave would wash over her skin and it would freeze into a light glaze and shatter. Considering his options for a moment, he increased his body temperature, trying to concentrate the extra warmth in his hands.

"Oooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…."

"Is that nice?"

Molten waves of lust sloshed back and forth through her body. She was barely verbal, much less coherent, but after a few tries she managed, "… so-s-so … good …"

"Excellent." He varied the timing and distance and pressure on his stroking of her thoroughly-soaked folds, following her lead through her reactions. Keeping the tiniest crack open in his shield, just enough to get a slight hint of what she was feeling, seemed to help, but even that small taste of her inhumanly intense passion threatened to derail his focus on his labors. He could feel the tension building behind her navel, the electric thrill that condensed and centered in her lower belly, growing and spreading, twisting and convulsing until she could barely endure it.

Well below the level of thought there ran a subtext in her mind.  
 _Something is about to HAPPEN_ ,  
 _something is SUPPOSED to happen and  
he is going to MAKE it happen and  
I am so hot I should be BLISTERING and  
my HUSBAND is making LOVE to me and  
this is tearing me in HALF and  
this is the most INTENSE feeling of my LIFE and  
I don't know if I am big enough to even HOLD this feeling and  
what in God's name is he DOING and  
my SKIN is on FIRE and  
if what is SUPPOSED to happen  
does NOT happen SOON  
I am GOING to DIE._

Her face was violently red, her breathing nothing but gasps, and her hips quivering erratically when finally he lightly pressed the back of one knuckle against that ultra-sensitive nub that his last wife, Belinda, had referred to as _'God's only true gift to women'_. In that instant, Elsa fell over the precipice into her very first orgasm. With the vast pressure finally released, waves of otherworldly pleasure sheared the last, frayed threads of her control. Shards of ice burst from her body in torrents; the bed vibrated away from the wall nearly a span; the room filled with frost knee-deep. Carlos absorbed what came his way, and held her tightly through the white-hot, shuddering blaze of passion.

. . .

. . .

 _ **Chapter End Note: Laying the groundwork, so to speak.**_

 _ **If you're interested in what Elsa's chemise looked like, here's a link (copy, paste, and remove the spaces):**_

 _ **schweitzerlinen uploads/ products/ 1894/ large-Rosetta_Chemise_9864 . jpg ? 54aea054722b8**_


	4. Chapter 4

**Melted**

 _by Concolor44_

 _ **Author's Note: She only thought she was done.**_

. . .

. . .

 **Chapter 4**

. . .

. . .

Over the course of the previous eight months, Elsa had made him aware of a few things concerning her relationship to her own body. It was neither an easy nor a familiar relationship, and was something that he'd been trying to help her come to terms with. A few months back, in answer to one of his questions, she'd explained (again) about the rigid control she had to maintain at all times while growing up, and why THAT sort of activity would have threatened that control; he'd then explained some of the details about pleasuring oneself. She had blushed furiously, considered the idea for perhaps five seconds, and dismissed it. Never before had she done that, she wasn't comfortable with doing it now, and it sounded to her like one great big honkin' punchbowl full of Distraction. She had plenty of distractions already. No, she'd told him, she could QUITE comfortably wait until after their wedding to delve into such mysteries. What she really wanted was some guidance, and they weren't going to be in a position for him to fill _that_ role until they were married.

So here she was, being tossed about in a tsunami of sensation unlike anything she'd ever before imagined, much less experienced, all her defenses shredded, her very soul laid bare to her husband, who was riding out the storm to the best of his ability as her mind buffeted his. They weren't worried about damaging Morana's castle. The Lady had informed them – in her half-amused, condescending way – that nothing they could do would pose the least threat to even the most delicate curio in the place, much less a bed she had crafted and repeatedly used herself. The very idea made her laugh.

Over the course of most of a minute, Elsa came down off the high, ending up curled into a tight ball, repeatedly flexing her toes as the last tiny bits of lightning worked out of them. When she could speak, she rolled over to face Carlos and said, "You … were right. I had … no clue." Stretching one perfect leg out straight, she cried out, "Good God in Heaven! Is _that_ what it _feels_ like every _time_?"

"Well …" He considered her question for a moment. "… no."

She frowned. "No?"

"Actually, it can get a good bit _more_ intense, depending on your position and … well … other things."

She just stared at him for a couple of breaths and then said, "You're trying to kill me, aren't you?"

An open laugh answered her. "You won't die. I guarantee it."

"Yeah, you've been guaranteeing a lot of things today."

"And I've been right, too."

"You need to change your name."

That non sequitur bought her a couple of confused blinks. "What's wrong with Carlos?"

"It's not accurate. It should be 'Eros'."

He grinned wickedly. "You're welcome."

Offering a small smile in answer, she scooted up beside him and walked her fingers slowly up his chest. "Okay, then, Mister Sex God. Can you do that again?"

"That and more."

"Show me."

"Turn back over." He knew she wouldn't be sore. He'd been careful about that. So when he slid his pre-warmed hand between her legs to cup her womanhood, he only got a trembling, satisfied sigh instead of a wince.

"That is SO nice."

"I'm going to raise you up a bit."

"Okay."

Once her rear was positioned, he took a close look at his new playground. "Ah. Perfect."

"What is?"

"You have a small maidenhead."

"And that's good?"

"Very. You won't have to worry about any tearing."

"Yes, I would appreciate that. Tearing sounds painful."

He began to massage her rounded hips, then her pudenda, gradually working the labia major open so he could manipulate the labia minor. Several very light strokes had her gasping again, eyes squeezed tightly shut. Taking great care not to actually touch the maidenhead, he slowly inserted one finger to the second knuckle. _Damn, that's tight!_

"URRKK!"

He'd been monitoring her mind ever so slightly, so he could tell that it didn't hurt. That was the whole point of giving her that first orgasm with purely external stimuli, so that everything would be loosened up and pliable. But still, he asked, "You okay?"

"Better than okay. That feels so weird. It's a nice weird, though."

"Good. Just relax."

He began a rhythm of in and out, moving half a finger-length at a time, and steadily working minutely deeper with each forward motion. He was feeling for something he knew was there, and …

When his fingertip grazed the small washboard area of her G-spot, she squeaked. A firmer contact, and she made a brief keening sound and all the starch went out of her legs. He followed her down, maintaining contact, and began rubbing it in tight, slow circles.

"Guuhhhhhhhhhh . . . . . . . ."

"Nice?"

"Zzehhhhh . . . . ." Her hips were twitching again.

Keeping up the light pressure, he slid his other hand back under her and used two fingers to surround the clitoral cowl. Moving them in a scissors fashion, he rolled the sensitive nub around without actually touching it.

Her second orgasm took her about twenty seconds later.

When the spasms had mostly subsided, she realized he still had a finger inside her … and it was still feeling really, really good. Raising herself on shaky arms, she looked back at him and said, "That's … incredible."

"I'm glad."

"Is there … anything I can … I'm supposed to do?"

"You're doing just fine, Sweetheart."

"You have no IDEA how fine I'm doing."

He began rubbing the G-spot again. She flopped back down onto the blanket and released a long, low moan. "That … just … feels … so … good … just … keeps feeling good and good and good. Oh. … . . . … Oh." Her shoulders slumped down, her face turned sideways. "Dear God. How … how are you … doing that?"

"Dear God is right. This is how God designed you, Darling. As it says in Scripture, the marriage bed is intended for pleasure."

She would have inquired into the accuracy of his quotation if she hadn't been so caught up in the sensations building up once again. The pleasure of climax was entirely new, and one corner of her mind was pleased that she had waited until now so that she could learn it properly instead of fumbling around with just herself. But that self-congratulatory attitude faded into the background and died in the roaring flame of desire that grabbed her and shook her as Carlos once more led her over the cliff.

The pleasure was almost absolute, marrying the sense of completeness that she got from mentally melding with Carlos with a stunning, visceral heat unlike anything in her experience. The waves of desire flooded her being, leaving her skin hypersensitive to touch, yet at the same time aching for contact. She had thought, given her previous reading, that reaching climax would be … well … the _climax_ of the act. It had been described as being akin to exhaustion. But that wasn't so. Not even close. Under her husband's skilled fingers, each dizzying peak only left her wanting more.

Eighteen minutes and five orgasms later, she was convinced in her soul that he had melted all her bones. Voluntary movement seemed frankly impossible.

He withdrew that magic finger and moved up to lie alongside her. "How you doing?"

"… muh."

"That good, huh?"

"muh."

Making sure she could see him, he took the finger that had been inside her and slowly licked off the glistening juices. Her eyes widened. "Izzat … c'n you …" she had to pull another long breath and re-focus her eyes, "… do that?"

"It's really quite lovely."

"Hmm. I …" Her breathing still wasn't under control. "Uff. Can't feel m' arms." Focusing again on his face, she continued, as best she could with the side of her head mashed into the sheet, "I never thought it … smelled ver' good. Sorta sim'lar t' fish."

"I _like_ fish."

"Well … I do, too, but … not …"

He chuckled. "It's okay. Nothing to worry about." Propping his head up on the back of one hand, he used his other to stroke her back.

She smiled, nearly purring.

After a few minutes he asked, "Have you caught your breath yet?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Good, let me turn you over."

"'kay. Don' think I could han'le 'at m'self."

Once she was arranged, with her hands comfortably behind her head, he kissed her, long and slow, gently nipping at her lips until they parted, then lightly brushing the tip of her tongue with his, sending fiery prickles racing over her skin and eliciting a series of increasingly needy moans. One of her legs jerked and she brought her arms down and wound her fingers into his hair.

"Ah-ah!" He took her hands in one of his and held them back just above her head. "Not yet."

"Nnnnnng!"

Her eyes, her cheeks and then her jawline received tender attention, then slowly and delicately he left a trail of open-mouthed kisses down her neck, nibbling her wildly pounding pulse-point, then out the top of her shoulder, back along her collarbone, and down onto one breast.

Panting very fast, she figured out what he was about to do and tensed.

Noticing that, he whispered, "It's better if you relax."

"… I'll try."

He nuzzled his cheek against the silken mound, bringing forth a happy moan, and he felt her muscles ease. A few more of those, and then he took her into his mouth.

"Oh! … . . . … Ahhhh … Oh, that's … nice. Mmmmmm."

Releasing her hands, he used one of his to cup and knead her other breast, holding the nipple lightly in two fingers. Her breaths became quite erratic; she grabbed handfuls of the comforter and squeezed. After a minute or so he moved to the underside of her breast, kissing it reverently, and then dropping more small kisses down her flank.

It almost tickled … almost. Her ribs were normally very ticklish, but again, this only felt good.

Continuing his journey, he circled her slight dip of a navel. Running his tongue over it brought forth a quick shiver. Then he moved lower, and lower still, and …

She finally realized his intentions and looked down at him in alarm, pressing a startled hand to his shoulder. "Carlos, wait! Wait … that's not … You mustn't … You … . . . … Oh."

Her head flopped back as an entirely new set of sensations got comfortable in her nether regions. His tongue was warm … so warm! And soft, and smooth, and gentle, and …

He sucked on one of the minor labia and massaged the rose-petal-soft membrane with his lips.

Her arms began flailing randomly, accompanied by a stream of panting, moaning, and squeaky little mewling sounds that drew a wide grin from her lover.

Never breaking contact, he moved around until he was positioned comfortably between her legs. Every surface received his ardent, tender treatment. He swirled around and around in slow and ever-widening circles, finally taking a feather-light swipe across the front of the maidenhead.

Sparks shot down all four of her limbs as her breath caught.

Of course she had touched herself there before many times, but always in a manner befitting the task: bathing, cleaning herself in the privy, washing up after 'monthlies' (due to their Fey heritage, neither she nor Anna – nor Idunn, for that matter – had ever suffered any of the peripheral symptoms of menstruation, but they did bleed for a couple of days every waning gibbous). She would tend to business, be very careful with the delicate membrane, and then leave it alone until she was forced to deal with it again.

Carlos, however, was showing her what it was meant for. By the second, he was redefining 'happy place' for her, and rational thought was simply becoming too much of a burden to bother with. Every flick across the edge sent a burst of white heat through her core, every slow drag of his tongue spread a glistening layer of warmth in waves of goosebumps down her legs. She felt that she should be doing something, but all she could do, all she could comprehend … was this feeling. It possessed her. How had she not known? Why wasn't this common knowledge?

After a minute more, and when the maidenhead was fully engorged and pliant, he used his thumbs to open her, and dragged the tip of his tongue along the inside surface.

She rewarded him with a sharp, keening cry, another orgasm, and a face full of her fluids. Desperately she clutched at his hair, pulling him hard into her core, prolonging the experience. He obliged by swirling his tongue around and around that 'gift to women', then pressing on it with the tip. Her climax kicked into high gear, more than twenty tons of snow piled up around them, and a long, high wail left her breathless as she finally collapsed, arms falling to the bed.

He immediately plunged a finger back inside, tickled her tiny 'washboard', and took her now-swollen 'rose petals' back between his lips.

"Oh … God … Car-Carlos … please …" She got a grip on his hair with one hand, but it was weak and shaky.

Carefully, slowly, he inserted another finger. She drew a hiss of breath and then panted, thrashing her head around at the fantastic, alien pressure. Lightning raced through her blood, which seemed determined to pool in her lower belly, leaving her faint. He scissored his fingers back and forth, tapping the G-spot rapidly. Then he moved his lips to the peak of her womanhood and sucked on it …

This was by far the most powerful climax yet, and she hadn't really gotten past the previous one. Her world fractured as a violent maelstrom of sleet kicked up and raged around them, the two lovers at the eye of the storm. Her back floated completely off the bed as her legs stiffened, vibrating with the force of her passion; her fists beat the blankets several times, then she fell, gasping, limp and completely drained, her chest heaving as she desperately sucked in lung-full after lung-full of precious air.

Carlos scooted up to lean against the headboard and gathered her to himself, stroking her hair and murmuring his love. Her hands shook as if palsied. She couldn't make them grip anything. But after a time she did turn her face to his chest to press trembling lips against his skin softly … slowly … repeatedly.

. . .

. . .

 _ **Chapter End Note: Because, you know, it seemed appropriate.**_


	5. Chapter 5

**Melted**

 _by Concolor44_

 _ **Author's Note: The whole is greater than the sum of the parts.**_

. . .

. . .

 **Chapter 5**

. . .

. . .

They held that tableau, with him gently rocking back and forth, until her heart finally began to calm. After a time, she whispered, "You smell good."

"You smell better." His voice was just as quiet.

No words were spoken for several more minutes as she lay there in his arms, loved, content, and replete, with a hunger she'd not really understood satiated in a way she'd not dreamed possible. After a bit she looked up at him, her clear gaze arresting his attention fully. "Yes?" he said, "Something on your mind?"

"You said … this was going to be … well outside my previous experience."

"I did, yes."

"Growing up, I had no notion – no one ever said anything, not Mama, not Gerda – about how wonderful … of course Anna has tried to describe it a few times, but … and I did get a little taste once when I sort of accidentally listened in, but it was _nothing_ like … not even …" She waved one hand about aimlessly. "I can't quite … make myself believe … but there it is. I was there. We did that. That happened."

"And it will happen again. Soon, if you're up for it."

"You're really … really _unbelievably_ good at that."

His white teeth gleamed in the low light. "You inspire me to greater efforts. I couldn't do it without you."

"Can … do regular women … sorry, still kinda dizzy … wouldn't have believed I could … feel anything that … that _powerful_ and not … whoa, still having a little trouble really understanding … sorry, brain not working too well …" She took a couple of deep breaths and continued, "What I mean is, you know, women who aren't Fey-touched? Can they … but yeah, you said so. You told me some about what you learned …" Giving a long, delicious shudder, she sighed and laid her head against him and murmured, "Just … I'm serious … unbelievable." She squirmed a little, pressing her thighs together, surprised at the lingering heat, the beginnings of resurgent desire.

"And yet here we are."

"Did you do that with Belinda and Julia?"

"Oh. Well, no. I didn't learn … it wasn't as if I was _completely_ clueless, but I learned much of what I know _well_ after Belinda died."

She snuggled in close. "I'm sorry for her, then."

That won her a chuckle. "So am I. But she'd been dead for many years before your grandfather was even born. I have mourned her, and moved on. It's what I had to do."

"I know." Her head tilted back so she could see his face. "You know, I've been thinking about this … _time_ issue a lot lately."

"Time?" The light dawned. "Oh. You mean all the time we have? Our extended lifespans?"

"Mm-hmm."

His confusion over the abrupt change in topic was obvious. "What brought that on?"

"To begin with I was … distressed. Because I'll outlive Anna, mostly, and that will be hard. I know everybody dies. Life implies death. Meetings and partings and … well." She nibbled her lip briefly. "It won't be easy, watching her get old. But we'll have a lot of time together. Decades. Probably several."

"She will have children. And they will have a magical aunt."

"They'll have a magical _mother_."

"Indeed. But her magic isn't quite as overt as yours."

"That's … true."

"And then _they'll_ have children …"

"Yes. And so on and so forth."

"Are you thinking it will get easier?"

"Not at all. Not even a little bit. But now I've come to see it as a positive thing, overall. We can do a lot of good with that much time."

"Yes. You brought that up some weeks ago. I was pleased we were able to talk all that out."

"Mm-hmm."

He waited for a bit, then prompted, "So what made you think of our long lives now?"

"After what we just did this afternoon? Finding out what my body is capable of? I'm **REALLY** glad about it."

His laughter lasted until she started giggling herself.

She stirred a little, re-positioning herself, then she reached out and stroked his still-hard length. "I'd like to see what this feels like."

"Um … you're awfully tight. I don't know …"

 _[[ Please? We'll stop if it gets too uncomfortable. But I just want to … try it. ]]_

 _[[ Very well. But we WILL stop if it starts to hurt. I have no intention of injuring you, even if you_ _ **can**_ _heal it at will. ]]_

 _[[ That's … reasonable.]]_

Glancing up at him, she huffed a small sigh. "That book the bishop gave me had instructions on how a maid is supposed to … _endure_ her first sexual encounter. I thought at the time that it didn't sound all that pleasant. But you know what?"

"… What?"

"I think that Augustus H. W. Meyer was deeply misinformed."

"Who?"

"He wrote that book the bishop-"

"Oh! Heh. Right. Misinformed. He was the one who said there were 'forbidden' positions?"

"Uh-huh."

"I think you can safely ignore everything in that book."

"I plan to." She gave him a sultry smirk and tossed her platinum mane to one side so that it draped her shoulder. "So, O Husband of Mine, how do we go about this?"

He considered her as she sat there, her legs curled under her, leaning on one arm in a way that emphasized the contours of her breasts and slender waist, those bright, endlessly fascinating eyes focused on his. He let his fingers slide through the lustrous mass of her hair, and gave a deep sigh. " _God_ , you're beautiful."

"Oh, so we start with prayer?" she asked, dimpling. "That's what Meyer said."

He had to laugh at that. "Well, we can't do _**that**_ , then. Anyway, you've got the first stage knocked, Sweetheart. You're relaxed."

"You got me this way. And after what you just showed me, I'm _extremely_ interested in your plans for the next step."

"Perfect. We need to get you into a position where you aren't under any kind of physical strain. So …" He cocked his head one way, then the other. "… lie down on your left side."

She uncurled in such a smooth and seductive motion, he could swear she'd been trained by courtesans. Letting her arm fall languidly to her side, she favored him with a half-lidded gaze and offered, "What the damsels in those naughty novels always say is something along the lines of 'my innocence is yours' or 'take me now' or 'batter down the virgin door'. But my innocence has been yours and no one else's for months, you've _already_ taken me to the edge of the universe and back, and I think that 'virgin door' is just going to welcome you in."

"That was the idea." His eyes raced up and down her body, trying to take all of her in at once, and failing. "By the Saints, you are just too perfect."

"Show me."

Getting a gentle grip on her right ankle, he lifted that leg up to his shoulder, then straddled her other leg. Taking his manhood in hand, he swiped the end slowly back and forth over her folds, subtly working it in a little at a time.

For her part, Elsa hadn't really banked the fire much. It was more like leaving her libido in idle. But as soon as he began playing once more, as soon there was real contact … the fireworks started all over again. The heat was back full force, accompanied by an almost frantic anticipation. Having had her world expanded over the last couple of hours, she was convinced – _eagerly_ convinced – that she could take anything he wanted to give her.

The long swipes became smaller circles, moving around and around over her secret, inner lips and bringing forth a series of tight squeaks that made him grin. "Now," he said softly, "just relax."

"… oka-ka-kay …"

There was pressure _(lovely, lovely pressure!)_ against her opening … a feeling of fullness, of stretching … and stretching … and STRRRRETCHING.

At her muted gasp, he stopped, held still (though it just about killed him) with the head of his manhood now hidden, gripped tight in her inner walls. He chanced a tiny peek into her mind, wincing at the almost painful sensations, and began to ease back out.

Her hand was around him in an instant. "NO!"

"… Are you sure?"

"Never more." Grip tightening a bit, she _pulled_ him into her core another finger-width. Two.

"Darling, it's hurting you …" He placed a hand on her thigh.

"Don't … you _dare_ … pull out!" She was panting hard.

Uneasy, but unwilling to countermand her wishes, he held still.

Between her sharp gasps, she explained, "Yeah … there's some … discomfort … a little … but you're pressing … against _something_ in there … and it's glorious. I just … need some time to … get used to it."

He bit his lip in worry. "Well … okay, then. You can take the lead. But please, please be careful."

Releasing her hold, but leaving her hand in place across his shaft, she lay there for several breaths, getting used to the myriad sensations. She'd had not a CLUE that there were so many nerve endings there, and while it was a bit overwhelming, the overall feeling was one of triumph. Satisfaction. Completion. "Okay … Honey?"

"Yes!"

"Pull out just a little and then push back in to where you are now."

He complied, keeping his motions as smooth as possible.

"Oh … migod."

"Okay?"

"So … intense … so … full … wow."

"Again, then?"

"Please."

He eased out and in, out and in, slowly and gingerly.

She opened her eyes, directing her azure gaze at his face with a tiny smile. "I think it's sweet that you love me so much to be so careful with me. But, Darling, I'm not a china doll."

"Meaning what?"

"I can feel that the maidenhead has stretched out of the way. There was a little … oh, I don't know how to describe it. 'Stretching' will have to do. But there's no pain now, no burning or anything."

"You're _**sure**_?"

"Completely."

"Well, okay, then."

"Push deeper."

"… Umm …"

"Sweetheart, I know you won't be able to get that whole _thing_ in me today. But I want to … to feel … what a woman feels. It's hard to express. I want to … possess your manhood. I want to feel you as deep in me as I can stand it. To have you, mind and soul and body." Her steady gaze would brook no opposition. "Now, push."

Taking a long breath and blowing it out his nose, he moved forward slightly and said, "It's a good thing you're so wet."

"I agree. Now … push."

He eased in.

Her beautiful bow of a mouth opened in a very round 'O' as her eyes slid shut. "Yes … oh, yes … just … like that."

Out. Back in.

"That's it."

Out. In.

"More."

Out a little farther. In a little more quickly.

"More!"

"Is that 'deeper' or 'faster'?"

"Uh … wow … okay … faster?"

He soon found a rhythm that had her panting and gripping the coverlet, knuckles white. Without really meaning to, he worked in a little deeper than before. She gave a squeak and went stiff. Immediately he pulled out, but she grabbed him again.

"No!" She guided him back inside her. "Don't go!"

"But you …"

"PUSH!"

He hesitated.

"Please, please, PLEASE push!"

"Okay." And he did, meeting some resistance.

"… ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodoh …"

He jerked back.

She grabbed him again. "No! No-no-no-no-no-no-no-no-no-no … no … just … don't … . . . … move."

He bit his lip to keep from objecting. _I told her she could lead this dance. I did tell her that._

"You," said Elsa pointedly, "are worrying too much."

"But …"

"No. You've done everything right. Everything. This is wonderful and there's that … whatever it was that you were playing with earlier that felt so _very_ good, and now you're rubbing against it again and it's WONDERFUL and don't you DARE think you're hurting me!"

"Oh. Well … okay, then. What do you want?"

The look she turned on him then practically melted him (except for his manhood, which he was sure was so hard a cat couldn't scratch it). "I want **you**. As much of you as will fit. I believe you now about that 'potential space' you were talking about." She swiveled and rocked her hips a tiny bit, gasping at the changing pressures. "This is just incredible."

"So it's _not_ hurting?"

Blowing an exasperated sigh, she said, "Not in the least. Now, if you would?"

He did.

They soon achieved that rhythm again, this time with her rocking her hips into him. He rubbed past her G-spot with every thrust, and was soon convinced that her increasingly vocal reactions had nothing to do with pain. By this time about two thirds of his shaft was disappearing into her core, and it felt to him that he was 'hitting bottom' so he didn't try to go any deeper.

Elsa seemed entirely lost in the experience. Between the growls and squeaks and hard panting she whispered or shouted her love and appreciation. He'd leaned over far enough that she could grab his hair again, and she had a good grip on him this time. He moved his right hand down to her entrance, lightly pinched the cowl together over her nub, and rolled it around with his fingers.

"Oh … ohgod … Car … it's … Carlos!"

Her face, he noted, was getting redder by the second, her unparalleled body writhing in ecstasy under him, and the sight and sound and feeling was _**demanding**_ his release. He knew she was close again, and promised himself he would hold off until –

"GAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHD!" Her inner walls spasmed over and over, her arms rigid, one fist full of his hair, the other hand digging nails into his forearm. The climax seemed to extend, to grow, and it pushed him over the edge.

The two of them floated up off the bed.

With what control he had left (not much) he kept himself from sinking to the hilt and actually hurting her. She didn't seem to notice, being deep in the throes of the most heady, all-encompassing orgasm yet, his pulses deep within her actually prolonging her own.

They had no idea how long it took. None.

Then they were back on the bed, lying together, limbs tangled, panting hard. She looked up, focused on his eyes for a second, then drew his head to hers and claimed his mouth. They had to pull away every few seconds for quick breaths, but it was many a long minute before the deep kisses settled into her laying light ones all over his face. At length she pressed her forehead to his, staring into him, into his very essence.

He had her gripped close, her slight frame molded to his, and murmured, "I never knew I could love anyone the way I love you. I never knew it was possible."

She only nodded. _[[ You are a revelation. ]]_

Gingerly he merged their psyches, his love flooding her, hers flooding him. And they just stayed there, basking in each other's aura, whole, fulfilled, and absolutely content, until they drifted off into a light slumber, their afternoon of discovery complete.

. . .

. . .

 ** _End Note: Thank you all for reading. I would love to know your thoughts on this piece._**

 ** _And thanks especially to Shadowruni for pointing out an anachronism in my wording. I fixed that issue, so it should read even more smoothly._**

 ** _Also, there will be other sequels. Just so you know. But they won't be happening right away. I'm now working on the last chapter and a half of "Gone Wylde" and I WILL-by-God finish that thing this Fall._**


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